Dangerous Motivator
by Hello Supernova
Summary: (Post Reichenbach) Sherlock is taking apart Moriarty's web, but he isn't alone. Boredom is a dangerous motivator, they say. How very right they were. (Sherlock/OC, One-Shot)


**Dangerous Motivator**

"You silly man," She whispered, lazily running her fingers through Sherlock's dark hair as they lay in the bed of a dingy, off-the-grid flat in Germany, courtesy of Mycroft.

It'd been two months since the fall, since Sherlock Holmes had committed suicide after being declared a fraud, and ever since, he had been traveling with Katherine and taking apart Jim Moriarty's web, the remainders of his company, so he could go home to London. To John.

He had met Katherine a while ago, on a case where she proved to be not as unintelligent as the rest of humanity. She had, in the end, solved the case all by herself- not that Sherlock would ever admit it. She was clever, she used her knowledge of psychology to her advantage and could even occasionally hold intelligible conversation, and- despite his reluctance to admit it- Sherlock had come to depend on her.

"What is it?" He asked blandly, his eyes half-closed as lit a cigarette, then taking a drag and running a finger lightly over her tan thigh.

She sigh, plucking the cigarette out of his hand and reaching over Sherlock's sparsely covered body to stub it out on the ashtray sitting on the nightstand.

"Mycroft called this morning. John isn't doing well. His therapist is apparently quite concerned- it seems he hasn't passed the denial stage yet," She informed him quietly, not wanting to disturb the quiet that surrounded them.

She had gotten used to being Sherlock's left _and_ right hand over the past few months. Sherlock couldn't go out in public, he couldn't contact anyone- Moriarty may have been dead, but not all of his clients were mindless henchmen. They were surely watching, waiting to see Sherlock Holmes cheat death. Nothing was impossible, after all, not in their world.

Sherlock chuckled, but Katherine knew leaving John alone in London pained him. "He's not an idiot," He commented, staying silent about all the other things he wanted to say.

_I miss John. I feel guilty about leaving him with my mess and letting him think I'm dead. Mycroft told us about the reporters harassing him- I'm sorry about that too. I want to go back to Baker Street. I want my life back._

But, as always, Katherine knew. She ran her thumb over his jawline, smiling slightly. "You'll go back, Sherlock. It'll just take a little while. I'll call Mycroft again tomorrow and we'll move on to Belgium."

"I calculated that it'll take us at least a year to take apart Moriarty's business, and that's the best case scenario," He replied, scoffing, defensive as he always was when Katherine showed how well she was able to read him.

"I'm just trying to be supportive, love. Play nice," She scolded jokingly, settling back down into bed, subconsciously nestling into Sherlock's warmth.

She felt him tense. "You just called me 'love'," He pointed out.

"Yes."

He let out a slight groan of impatience. "Why?"

"It was sarcasm, Sherlock. I'll just add that to the 'not suitable' list, shall I?" She remarked, referring to all the other topics she knew he would rather not speak about, and all of her habits that irritated him.

"No," He interjected. "That's not true. You're developing an attachment to me."

She laughed dryly. "I'm living on closest proximity to you, I'm your personal... _everything_. I doubt I would have survived two months if I hadn't developed an attachment to you," She said.

"But we're not just working together, Katherine. You seem to be developing more domestic feelings."

He was referring to the more physical part of their relationship, of course. It'd started not too long after Sherlock had 'died', when he'd had Mycroft call her and take her to meet him. After arranging a suitable business deal- Katherine would help him and receive a suitable amount of money for her troubles- they had proceeded to Sherlock's hide-out at the time and gotten drunk out of plain boredom. One thing, as they usually did, led to another and they ended up in bed the next morning, exchanging casual banter as if nothing had happened.

One thing Sherlock admired about her was how much she was like him, in some ways. She wasn't exactly like him, but she wasn't controlled by her emotions, she did what she had to to get work done, and lastly- she got _bored _too. Actually, the two got bored a lot, always leading them to each other, since they were trapped in the variety of flats Mycroft appointed them to.

Katherine sighed, not even having to read from his body language that he wasn't fond of the idea of a domestic relationship. "Sherlock," She started, turning onto her side to face him, "I know my place. We're bored, this is a distraction. I'm fine with that. This thing between us- we're simply friends, even if you're not fond of the idea. I'm helping you, and after it's all said and done, we'll go back to our lives beforehand."

For a moment, he was silent, his pale eyes piercing into hers with an analytical precision she had come to expect from him. "You're my friend?" He repeated, disbelief slightly colouring his words.

"If you want me to be," She answered, a slight smirk on her lips.

He wavered slightly. "You're not just a distraction."

"Aren't I?" She questioned, her smirk widening as she propped her head up onto her hand.

He groaned again, gently pushing her onto her back and towering over her. "No," He whispered, holding her gaze.

While he may have been a self-proclaimed sociopath, the two of them both knew that wasn't true at all. He cared too much- about John, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade- he just knew how to seperate himself from his emotions like Katherine. Deep down though, Sherlock Holmes had a heart, and Katherine had spent the past few months succeeding at slowly worming her way into it.

"Explain to me then, Sherlock Holmes," She said in her most teasing voice, one that made a slight shudder run down even his back, "What am I to you?"

He leant his head down, his lips hovering right above her own, brushing them as he spoke. "I'd rather just show you."

"Careful- I might think you're turning domestic," She said, but moved her hands up to the nape of his neck, tugging slightly at his curls.

"Doubtful," He remarked, smirking, and kissed her, losing his mind in her touch, quieting his his racing thoughts. "I hope you're aware that I won't let you go back to your old life."

She laughed. "Wouldn't have it any other way, love."

And that was all that needed to be said.

Boredom was a dangerous motivator, but a flame didn't light from nothing.

* * *

AN: I wrote this at 3am. Don't judge me if it's crap but I just had the idea after watching TRF again. I also noticed a lot of new stuff that I might write short pieces about, though they won't be slash, probably. Just little insights.

- Nova


End file.
